


As the stars were made for the sky

by goopeculiar



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Pretentious Language, old fic is old, tw: implied!suicide attempt, vague post-apocalypse!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22404547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goopeculiar/pseuds/goopeculiar
Summary: They can't love each other because they meet in dreams.
Relationships: Implied!pairings, Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	As the stars were made for the sky

**Author's Note:**

> *dusts off fic from 2012 and throws it into the void*

_Yifan dreams of Yixing._

Gentle wind makes the grass around them dance, their naked bodies intertwined as they lay on a bed of soft petals. Their skin is flushed, perspiring, and sticks together when Yixing, who is resting on Yifan's chest, shifts to look up at him, chin pressing into his sternum. “Yifan?” The sun kisses Yixing's face and the dark hair that slides smoothly like silk through Yifan's fingers. “Do you know that I love you?”

“I am aware of it, yes.”

“Do you love me as well?” Yifan tenses. Yixing sighs. He sits up, and Yifan fears that he plans to leave so he reaches out to stop him. Yixing merely throws his leg over Yifan's waist to straddle him and sits with his backside firmly planted in Yifan's lap. “Why do you still not love me?”

Yifan's hands clutch narrow hips briefly then travel upwards, ghosting over Yixing's ribcage, tracing every ridge, until he has Yixing squirming at the ticklish feeling. Yixing pries the wandering hands off his body and laces their fingers together as he pins Yifan's hands to the ground.

“You are a dream,” Yifan finally answers, even though Yixing's skin most definitely feels real whenever it breaks out in goosebumps under his calloused palms. “I can't love a figment of my imagination. We've discussed this.”

Yixing merely laughs at his response, eyes squinting and dimples denting his cheeks, and Yifan's heart flutters in a way he wishes it wouldn't. “You are a dream just as much as me.”

  
  


  
  


“Dreams?” Even though it has occurred for more than a month, this is the first Yifan tells his friends of his nightly encounters, and the moment he sees the look of obvious skepticism on Minseok's face he wishes he hadn't. “Really?”

“Are you certain, Yifan?” Luhan's soft voice cuts in. They're on the rooftop, attempting to catch a few minutes of the limited, pale light of the sun that has made its appearance for the first time in several weeks.

“I don't see any other way to explain this.” Yifan takes a sip of the hot beverage he has been offered and promptly grimaces. He knows that Luhan means well whenever he brings him coffee, and it's a nice gesture, except Luhan doesn't know how to make it the right way because Luhan is not a coffee person. He much prefers the sweet bubble tea his younger lover so frequently convinces him to buy.

“No one ever dreams anymore these days,” Minseok says, still openly skeptical, and he emphasizes his point by adding another firm: “Ever.” He takes one more bite of the apple he has been munching on, wrinkling his nose at the stale taste that fills his mouth.

“I am aware of that,” Yifan mutters. “That's why it confuses me.”

With his chin resting in his palm Luhan leans towards Yifan, his gaze clearly displaying the curiosity he feels. “What is it like to dream?” he asks, doll-like eyes wide in wonder.

The question causes Yifan's mind to reel as he attempts to think up a reply to sufficiently describe the sensation. “It's unlike anything else I have ever experienced,” he settles for, letting out a sigh as he exhales the wistful response. “It can't be explained in words.”

They all turn their heads when the door to the rooftop opens, and Minseok groans when they see their supervisor standing there, squinting against the sudden surge of authentic light that he is so unaccustomed to, that they're all so unaccustomed to. “Back to work,” is all he says, and then he disappears back inside before the harsh rays scorches his skin.

“Sometimes I'd wish he wasn't such a try-hard,” Minseok mumbles and uses his teeth to peel the last flesh off the core of his apple before he hurls it into the fog down below.

Luhan jumps off the ledge he has been perched on, stretches his limbs and then advances towards the door. “Joonmyun has been in this position for nearly seven years already. I'm sure he is becoming desperate for management to notice him.” Minseok says nothing, merely scoffs and shoves his hands into his pockets before he follows. Yifan is a few steps behind them after dumping his almost full cup of coffee into the fog as well.

“You know what you should do?” Minseok utters as they journey down the stairs. “You should alert Chanyeol of this new discovery of yours. I'm sure he'd be intrigued.”

“Chanyeol from the neurology ward?” The suggestion leaves Yifan a tad skeptical, and as Minseok nods his head yes, Yifan lets out a sound of disdain. “I think not. I would like for my brain to remain functioning.”

  
  


  
  


_Yifan dreams of passion._

It burns like red-hot fire streaming through his veins. Yixing is on top of him, fingers splayed out on his chest for balance and head thrown back to reveal a throat glistening with perspiration. Yixing is under him, knees pushed towards his chest and Yifan panting heavily against his neck. Yixing is beside him, secure in Yifan's embrace as he rolls his hips gently into him.

Yixing is on his stomach, head rested on folded arms and dark lashes fluttering against alabaster skin that is stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, while Yifan's eager fingers dance down his back as if they are counting the bumps of his spine. Both of them are bathed in sun, warm and comfortable as they lie in the grass. Yifan thinks that if only he's allowed to stay there with Yixing forever just like this he will be content.

“How long has it been?” Yixing inquires, thus breaking the silence.

“Since we met?” Yifan asks and receives a hum in affirmation. He thinks it over. “I'm not sure. Months. I stopped keeping track.”

Yixing hums again. “Why do you think we are here?”

Yifan's heavy brow furrows as he fails to understand the question. “Here in the world?” The tips of his fingers brush over the purple marks that mar pale inner thighs.

“Here, together, you and I.” Yixing is looking at him now, studying his face with his signature drowsy eyes. “Why do you think we meet in dreams?”

The fingers travel up the curve of his back again, muscles twitching under the light touch. “I don't know,” Yifan answers after a few moments of consideration. “But I'm glad to have met you.” Yixing's lips are soft against his own and his body is pliant.

They make love until the stars come out.

  
  


  
  


Chanyeol is a strange person, Yifan thinks. Very strange. He ends up going to see the neurologist anyway after being subjected to a dose of the near-lethal weapon that is Luhan's friend Zitao. That boy has an eerie ability to coax Yifan into doing just about anything he asks of him. Yifan believes it to be witchcraft or something of the sort.

He also blames Zitao and Luhan for currently being hooked up to a machine that may or may not fry his brain. Chanyeol told Yifan while he was in the process of attaching the electrodes to his scalp that he wasn't entirely sure of the side effects. Not very reassuring at all. “I fail to see how neurology is related to my dreams in any way,” Yifan comments, a lot less calm on the inside than he chooses to openly display.

Chanyeol drags his fingers through frizzy hair, only succeeding in messing it up further. It makes him look deranged. That's most likely a bad sign. “This is the first time I'm trying this thing out and I'm not sure how well it copes with activity in the left temporal lobe so I will advice you not to speak.” Yifan makes a mental note to punch Luhan somewhere very painful the next time he sees him, but he stays quiet upon Chanyeol's request, watching as he presses buttons and scribbles notes onto a piece of paper.

“He only says that because he doesn't care for answering questions, you know,” Baekhyun drawls after a few minutes of silence. He is sprawled out on a shabby futon in the corner of the room with a stack of old books by his side, one of them propped up on his thighs as he bends his legs at the knees.

Chanyeol glowers. “Why are you even here? Go away, no one likes you.”

“I'm sure I would be immensely offended if I didn't know you were head over heels in love with me,” Baekhyun retorts calmly, turning another yellowed page. “But you are my boyfriend so I don't quite believe you.” If he had been looking in their direction he would have seen Chanyeol sticking out his tongue at him in a childish gesture.

“Can we get on with this?” Yifan sighs impatiently, daring to speak now that the secret is out.

Chanyeol turns his attention to him again and presses a few more buttons. “What do you usually dream of?” he then queries. Yifan thinks it over, thinks back to the hours and hours he has spent at the meadow with Yixing, happy and naked and loving, and he feels a flush creep over his face at the thought of their activities. Chanyeol smirks knowingly. “You don't need to answer that.”

“You know nothing,” Yifan blurts out, feeling flustered.

“How many sexual partners have you had in the last few months?”

The question startles Yifan and his anger vanishes instantly. “I-I fail to see how this is relevant for your study.” Chanyeol looks at him for a long time, barely blinking. Yifan sighs. “There... hasn't been anyone in particular.” He has tried finding love among his peers, but a voice at the back of his head keeps telling him that he can't betray Yixing like so. “Are you suggesting that this occurs due to my recent lack of intimacy?”

“It's quite possible that whatever takes place in your dreams is a subconscious manifestation of your desires.”

“So what do you propose?”

“Have sex,” Chanyeol simply says with a grin that quickly turns into a scowl. “But you can't have Baekhyun. He's mine.” Baekhyun scoffs from his place on the futon in the corner of the room.

  
  


  
  


_Yifan dreams of guilt._

It's eating him up inside. This time they're at a nearby lake, walking leisurely on the shore hand in hand while the light reflected by the blank water shines on Yixing's skin, and it's beautiful, calm. Still Yifan feels uneasy. They come to a halt and Yixing turns, sliding his hand down Yifan's arm to lace their fingers on the other hand together as well. His eyes are positively smiling as he gazes up at Yifan with affection in his glance, and he cranes his neck to press their mouths together, soft, sweet.

“I'm going out to dinner,” Yifan whispers against his lips.

“Oh?”

“With... someone else.”

“Oh.” The smile dancing on Yixing's face falters noticeably despite his efforts to make it stay.

“It has been suggested that I should attempt to find more intimacy, so this is my attempt,” Yifan explains and the darker the expression on Yixing's face turns the more guilty he feels. “I can't keep living in dreams. I'm sorry.”

He doesn't stop Yixing from pulling away from him. “Will he make you happy?” Yixing asks. His voice trembles slightly and Yifan is tempted to reach out and pull him into his hold, but he refrains from doing so because it wouldn't feel _right_.

“I'm... not certain,” Yifan responds honestly, because if anything he feels he should be honest with Yixing. “I don't know him well.”

Yixing smiles sadly as he reaches out to caress Yifan's face and Yifan wants it to last forever, but the touch is fleeting. “I hope for your happiness, Yifan,” he whispers, and Yifan manages to see the glittering tears in Yixing's eyes right before he dives into the water.

  
  


  
  


Yifan tries to enjoy the dinner, he really does. Chanyeol's friend Jongin is nice. He is handsome and polite and entertaining and supposedly he's a great dancer as well. But he isn't Yixing, which is why Yifan can't find it in himself to be interested. All he can think of is Yixing and Yixing's hands and Yixing's smile and Yixing's lips and... “I'm sorry, am I boring you?”

Yifan looks up from his plate, locking gazes with the guy sitting on the chair across from him. “Pardon?”

Jongin smiles, a sweet smile that reminds Yifan that he is actually several years younger than him, and he puts down his utensils. “You seem disinterested, Yifan-sshi. Am I boring you?”

“My apologies, I'm... a bit distracted is all.”

“There's someone else, isn't there?” Apparently Yifan's body feels that now would be a good time to impersonate a fish. He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, unsure how to respond to the accusations. Jongin chuckles briefly at his flabbergasted expression. “Don't worry, I understand. I have someone else as well.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

“Because I have yet to find him.” Jongin lets out a troubled sigh. He rests his chin in his palm and absentmindedly watches the drink swirl around in his glass with the hand movements he makes. “I know nothing of him but his name. His soul name resounds in my mind and I don't know who he is or how to find him. It's driving me mad.”

“Mine comes to me only in dreams,” Yifan mutters.

“Dreams?” Jongin sounds every bit as skeptical as Minseok did when he first heard of this, but then he smiles. “It must be pleasant, being able to escape the real world that way.”

“As long as that is where Yixing is I prefer dreaming over reality.”

Yifan offers to walk Jongin home after dinner, and Jongin doesn't decline. They journey mostly in silence, shoulders brushing once in a while as they walk close to stay warm. The fog is thick this evening and humidity clings to their clothes and weighs the fabric down. “Have you seen stars in your world of dreams?” Jongin questions curiously, gazing upwards into the dense grey that covers his view as if trying to look past it. Even if he was able to the ever-present clouds would be another hindrance.

“I have.”

“What are they like?”

Yifan is used to people asking these things once they're told that he can dream. They wish to know of stars, trees, the ocean. It's difficult for him to sufficiently depict these things for people to realize their true beauty. “Indescribable,” he answers.

Jongin sighs. “I wish to see the stars.” Yifan says nothing. He also says nothing when they arrive at Jongin's living quarters, and Jongin fists a hand in his jacket to crash their lips together with almost bruising force. It is clear that it's an action of desperation, and Yifan allows himself to be kissed. He even kisses back with long fingers pressing into Jongin's hips as he pulls him closer. It feels nice, admittedly. But it's not Yixing.

They separate, Jongin's eyes darting between Yifan's. “Nothing,” Yifan says after a moment.

Jongin takes a step back and he seems almost relieved. “Me neither,” he admits and lets out a sigh as he hangs his head, dejected. For a moment Yifan thinks he's crying, but then he looks at him once more. “Good luck.”

Yifan smiles. “You too.”

  
  


  
  


_Yifan dreams of chaos._

The sun's gone dim and the sky's turned black. Yixing is frenzied. Yixing is panicking. “Yifan!” he calls, standing in the middle of their meadow with wisps of sand curling around his legs. “Yifan!” Even as Yifan grasps him by the shoulders and pulls him to his chest he continues to call out.

“I'm here, I'm here.” Yixing is trembling to the core, and his fear is contagious. Yifan tries his hardest to stay collected for the both of them. He pulls away to look at Yixing, only to feel his worry increase tenfold when he sees the crystalline tears spilling from his eyes. He cradles his face in his large hands. “What's the matter? What's wrong?”

Yixing claws desperately at the sleeves of Yifan's shirt as if trying to hang onto him. “Do you t-trust me?” he croaks, throat closing up with stuttering sounds. “Do you _trust_ me?”

“More than anything,” Yifan answers without hesitation.

“Then tell me your... your name.”

“My name? My name is Yifan, you know this.”

“No!” Yixing cuts him off before his sentence is complete. “Your _name_. The name to help me find you.”

Yifan feels frantic as he searches Yixing's face, his pleading eyes that are slowly losing their glow, his lips that are parted to make way for wheezing breath that seems to gradually falter. “K-Kris,” he then whispers, uncertainly at first, but with more determination as he repeats: “My name is Kris. I am Kris.” Yixing chokes out a sob and turns to dust between his hands.

  
  


  
  


Going out for drinks is one of the last things Yifan wants to be bothered with that evening. Nightmares have caused him to lose hours of sleep, and all he wants to do is be alone with his thoughts, but Zitao must have performed another one of his witchcraft rituals even though he's not even going with them, because somehow Yifan ends up going.

Before he can comprehend what's really happening, Luhan has pushed him into a booth and there is an alcoholic beverage in his hand. He glares daggers at the perpetrator as he plops down on an unoccupied seat that has been saved for him at the other side of the table where he promptly curls up to his lover's side. In reality, Sehun is too young to be there, but no one needs to know that.

“Is something bothering you? You seem unusually moody even for your standards.” Baekhyun's blunt question successfully mutes all conversation, and instead everyone focuses on Yifan as they wait for his response. It seems as though they have all been wondering, but of course no one other than Baekhyun is brave enough to actually ask and potentially awaken the dragon.

Yifan sighs. “Do not worry about me, I am just fine.” He glowers to make sure they all know not to question him further on the matter. No one does.

Instead Chanyeol changes the subject. “How was dinner with Jongin?” he wants to know.

“Dinner went well.” He takes a sip of his drink in an attempt to avoid any other questions.

This only makes him splutter and nearly choke when Chanyeol proceeds to ask: “Did you have sex?” He asks this loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear it as well, judging by the way the people's eyes widen. Chanyeol is too loud for public. Baekhyun pats him affectionately on the thigh.

“No, we did not... _have sex_ ,” Yifan hisses. “It was in neither of our interests to do so, therefore we did not. And frankly I'm not quite sure why I am telling you this since it is none of your business.” Chanyeol raises his hands in defense and mutters something about Yifan being cranky, which Yifan purposely chooses to ignore.

One by one they all retreat to their own little world where it's only themselves and their significant other, and that leaves Yifan out because he is by himself. Somehow he prefers it this way since he was never much of a people person, and the only one he truly wants to bond with exists only in dreams. He slowly sips the beverage he has been provided with as he watches the others' interactions.

Yifan thinks of excusing himself to go to the restroom because the public display of affection is getting out of hand. He soon recalls, however, that Kyungsoo and Joonmyun both went in there a few minutes prior, and he is still not quite over the last time he accidentally walked in on the two of them alone in a bathroom. They try to be inconspicuous, but in reality they're not. No one has the heart to tell them.

Instead Yifan decides that it's time to go home. He says brief goodbyes to everyone present – some lament his departure, some seem unfazed – and he leaves the pub. It has been a while since the last time he felt so alone.

  
  


  
  


_Yifan dreams of darkness._

Everything is black and the air makes his lungs and eyes burn. He tries to orientate himself in the void, but there is nothing there. Except for Yixing. Yifan finds him floating, screaming. The sound is distorted as if they are both emerged in water, but it slowly becomes clearer as he approaches. “Kris!” Yixing calls out, panicked. “Kris! If you love me you will find me!”

“I'm here.” Yifan's voice refuses to come out as more than a hoarse whisper no matter how much he tries to make it louder, and Yixing's desperate cries drowns him out anyway. “I'm here. L-... L-... I'm here. I'm here.”

Yixing screams and screams until his voice gives out.

  
  


  
  


It has been a week. Yifan knows this because for once he has been counting. It has been seven days since their world turned dark, seven days of dreaming of Yixing suspended in empty space as he calls out his name. Even in his waking hours Yifan is haunted. Screams resound in his brain, memories from the night that still remains during the day, and it is taking its toll on him.

“Something is bothering you,” Kyungsoo comments, huge eyes looking right at Yifan. Joonmyun raises his head, immediately attentive, gaze flickering between them with worry. “You seem troubled as of late. What's the matter?”

Yifan sighs. This question has been asked enough times for him to find it irritating by now. “It's nothing,” he tries to assure Kyungsoo, but isn't very convincing with the way he presses his fingers into his eyes at the same time to dull the pain that throbs in his skull. “Just a minor headache is all.”

“Do you need me to arrange for a sick pass?” Joonmyun asks from his place behind the front counter. Kyungsoo's taunting question about his sudden burst of compassion is met with a sharp glare that has Kyungsoo raising his hands in surrender. Yifan declines. Joonmyun exhales. “Are you certain? I don't wish for you to fall ill.”

“Don't fret. I'll manage.”

Joonmyun hums, clearly not content still, but he doesn't mention the matter further. He knows of Yifan's stubbornness. “Jongdae is absent today, is it possible for you to take his place?” A brief thought of how extremely _convenient_ it is for Jongdae to be absent on the day Minseok is excused from work as well crosses Yifan's mind, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. He lets out a noncommittal noise in response and takes the clipboard that is handed to him before he follows Kyungsoo to the patient ward.

“Jongdae only has one patient at the moment,” Kyungsoo lets him know as they walk. “He was brought in roughly a week ago. His condition is stable now, but he has been unconscious the whole time.” Yifan hums, skimming through the text that has been scribbled on the papers attached to the clipboard.

“He has no name?”

“It's unknown. He had no identification card.”

“Relatives?”

“None located.” They come to a halt in front of the room at the end of the hall and Kyungsoo pushes the door open. “All you have to do is come here once an hour to ensure that his drips are functioning properly. That's all we can do for him at this point.”

At last Yifan looks up from his papers and he nearly drops the clipboard as he does so. On the bed is someone he has seen dozens, hundreds of times. Someone he has laughed and lived and loved with. “Yixing,” he whispers. Yixing is breathtaking in person more so than in dreams, even as he lay there, pale and lifeless.

It's somewhat of a wonder that Kyungsoo's eyes haven't popped out of his skull yet with the way they constantly bulge out. “You know him?”

Yifan gulps down the lump in his throat. “He's...” Twisted wires connect Yixing to the heart monitor that stands by the side of the bed, sending shrill beeps into the silence of the room every now and then. “He's...” Clear tubes run between the needle in his elbow joint and the intravenous fluid drip that is suspended from a stand. “He's an acquaintance,” Yifan finishes because he isn't sure exactly how to refer to Yixing. His eyes land on the gauze that covers the other's forearm. Breathing is suddenly painful.

“Would you prefer if I found someone else to look after him?”

“It's fine,” Yifan assures him as he pulls up a chair to sit by the bedside. “Wh-what happened to him?” He ghosts his fingers gingerly over the white cloth. “An accident?” His voice is hopeful, but he already knows it isn't so.

Kyungsoo sighs. It seems as if he is uncertain whether he is allowed to tell Yifan this or not, but Yifan shoots him a sharp glare and he budges. “As far as I've gathered it was no accident,” he says slowly.

  
  


  
  


_Yifan dreams of pain._

It pains him to see Yixing shaking with tears, floating in the dark nothingness as he cries out his name over and over. “Kris,” he croaks, his panicked calls have turned hopeless long ago and his voice is hoarse from screaming. “Kris. If you love me you will find me.” He curls into himself in a ball. “If you really love me you will find me. Kris. Come find me. Please.”

Every single cell in Yifan's body is aching, is begging for him to call out, to let his presence be known. His mind thinks up several sentences, but his voice refuses to utter it. His mouth forms several words, but his throat closes and it hurts so he stops trying, watching with tears streaming down his face as the distressing sobs make Yixing's body convulse.

Yifan clenches his fists, clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut. “L-... L-...” He breathes in, long and deep, and the harsh air burns his eyes when he opens them again, it burns through his nose and his insides and it hurts, but he doesn't care. “Lay!” he screams at the top of his lungs, and finally Yixing turns his head, eyes wide and sobs dying on his lips. “Lay! I'm here! I am Kris and I love you!”

  
  


  
  


Joonmyun looks up from his crossword puzzle, startled when Yifan bursts through the door in the middle of the night. “What are you doing here at this hour?” he inquires as Yifan rushes through the lobby with long strides. “It's not your shift.” Yifan doesn't have to think for long to decide that there are things that are more important than responding to useless questions, namely Yixing.

By the door that leads to the patient ward stands Kyungsoo, eyes wider than usual. “He's awake,” he blurts out as soon as he sees Yifan. “He just woke up and started crying. I can't calm him down.” Yifan pushes his way past Kyungsoo, swiftly making his way down the corridor and only stopping when he is in front of the door to Yixing's room. There he pauses.

Yifan's heart thumps loudly in his chest, pulse pounding in his ears and he is struck by fear. He's afraid that the Yixing in the room is not the Yixing he knows, that it is a mere coincidence that the man looks like Yixing, _his_ Yixing, the one from his dreams. Yifan decides that he has lived in fear for far too long.

The door opens soundlessly. He steps inside. The room is warm, he has made sure of this since he knows Yixing gets cold easily. Bathed in artificial light lies the man who has been haunting his dreams. Flecks of tears cling to his lashes as his eyes are closed, squeezed shut. The drops that escape draw wet trails towards his ears, even from a distance Yifan can see this. Yixing is crying, shaking. Yifan is unsure how to react.

Cautiously he approaches the bed. The soles of his shoes scuff against the floor, and even through Yixing's sniffles, the sound reaches his ears. In any case his eyes open, filled to the brim with unshed tears, and he turns his head to look for the source of the noise. Both freeze as they lock gazes and the seconds pass by like hours.

Then Yixing lets out a sob. “Kris?” he exhales. It is so quiet yet so audible. Yifan sucks in a sharp breath. Yixing stretches his arm in his direction. “Kris. Are you real?”

Yixing knows him. He knows him. Yifan doesn't even hesitate for a second before he steps forward to grab the hand that is extended towards him, and he presses it to his cheek to allow Yixing to feel his heat. “I'm real,” he responds, words muffled by Yixing's palm because he can't stop himself from kissing it. He wants to press his lips to every inch of his body. Yixing whimpers as the tears well up again. “I'm real. I'm here. I'm here.”

“It was so dark. I was so scared.”

“I know.”

“I called for you. I called for you so many times. Wh-why didn't you come find me?”

Yixing's fingertips are cold against Yifan's chapped lips as he presses kisses to each one of them. “I tried so hard to find you, but I didn't know your name.”

“My... name,” he begins, but Yifan promptly interrupts.

“I know.” Dark hair slides smoothly like silk through Yifan's fingers. It feels even better now that he is sure it's reality. “I realized that I knew it all along. I was just afraid to use it. Your name is Lay. You are Lay.”

“L-Lay,” Yixing repeats with a nod. “I am Lay and I love you.”

  
  


  
  


_Yifan dreams no more._

  
  


  
  


It is a soft press of lips against Yifan's abdomen and hands running down his sides that pull him out of his slumber, and he twitches slightly as warm breath tickles over his skin. “Yixing,” he exhales and the sound of giggles makes his heart throb. “What are you doing?”

“I am waking you up, my love,” comes the prompt answer. Yifan cracks one eye open to glance blearily down at Yixing as he mumbles something about it being too early to be awake on the day he is excused from work. Yixing giggles once more. “But the sun has come out, Yifan, it would be a terrible shame to let it go to waste.”

“Who needs sun when I have you?” Yifan groans in disapproval when Yixing's touch leaves him, but once Yixing lies down by his side with an arm draped over his waist he is sated.

“It's too early to be so disgusting,” Yixing taunts. He doesn't shy away from the lips that seek out his, though.

“It's your fault. I wasn't this way before I met you.”

“Lies.”

Yifan says nothing. He merely caresses the limb that rests warmly on his stomach. His eyebrows pull together in a frown once the tips of his fingers come in contact with an unevenness in the skin there and he opens his eyes fully to watch what he's doing. “Does it hurt?” he inquires, carefully tracing the outline of the scar that stretches diagonally from Yixing's wrist to the middle of his forearm. It has been nearly two weeks since Yixing woke up, but Yifan has not had the courage to ask about it previously for fear of upsetting his lover.

A simple shake of his head provides an answer. “Not anymore.”

“Did it hurt when you created it?”

“Not as much as the thought of living without you.” Yixing lets out a sheepish chuckle and promptly proceeds to roll onto his back so he can hide his face in his palms as if he is embarrassed by his own words. Yifan pries his hands off his face and kisses them, smiling at the red hue that covers Yixing's dimpled cheeks as he does so because Yixing looks delectable like that. “Do you know that you are everything I have?” he whispers after remaining silent for a few moments.

“What about Luhan? Baekhyun? You seem to get along well.” Yifan can't help the slight hint of jealousy in his tone, because Yixing really does get along well with his friends.

“Compared to you they mean nothing,” Yixing responds and then laughs again. “It appears that your disgustingness is contagious. I seem to have caught it as well.” All Yifan does is kiss him quiet.

Despite Yixing's previous efforts to coax him out of bed, they stay there just like that for hours on end, kissing and gently touching, and Yifan loses count of how many _'I love you's_ he whispers into Yixing's soft hair or against the crook of his neck or with their lips pressed close together and mere millimeters of distance in between.

“Why do you think we met in dreams?”Yixing utters the question that is similar to the one he asked so long ago, only this time Yifan is able to give him an actual answer.

Cupping Yixing's cheek with his hand. Yifan kisses him again for a moment, lovingly, and once they part he responds: “We were made for each other. As the stars were made for the sky.”

**Author's Note:**

> for real tho, I wrote this in 2012 when I was but a wee exo-L, and despite its very obvious problematic bits, I am still very much in love with it. so here, with minor edits, I present this story to ao3. please be kind. ; - ;


End file.
